


Homoception

by TullyBlue



Series: Post Hummel [2]
Category: Glee
Genre: A thesaurus isn't a dinosaur, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blackmail, Closeted Characters, F/F, F/M, Greek Tragedy Levels of Irony, M/M, Subterfuge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-27
Updated: 2018-11-27
Packaged: 2019-09-01 09:02:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16762087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TullyBlue/pseuds/TullyBlue
Summary: There were, like, Greek tragedy levels of irony in Lauren blackmailing a closeted Santana Lopez who was blackmailing a closeted Dave Karofsky, all to help out the (unknowingly?) closeted Noah Puckerman.God. She needed a vacation.





	Homoception

**Author's Note:**

> Zizes is my girl and no one loves her enough. Here's the second part to my PH series.
> 
> Edited in January 2019. On a completely unrelated note, I should stop using swipe-text to write my fics.

Lauren hadn’t expected to enjoy Puck's song with Hummel so much. They were day and night – Hummel was too refined, too icy, too vibrant, compared to the laid back, fiery, grungy Noah Puckerman. Yet, they all but burned down the stage with their duet. Even among a room full of talent, they earned a standing ovation of sloshing cups and stomping feet.

  
And the whole time, she felt relief.

*

Noah Puckerman's pursuit of Lauren Zizes surprised everyone, herself included. Yeah, she was totally hot and could kick anyone’s ass (just try her), but she knew how boys like Puck worked. Or, she thought she did.

Now, don’t get it twisted. She liked him well enough, for a boy from Lima, Ohio. He was attentive and determined when it came to winning her over. A pretty face and arms that made her sigh were just added benefits. Puck was a decent guy, despite what he (and most everyone else) believed. Unlike most of the dumb jock types at McKinley, Puck could be sweet. Sure he was no rocket scientist – a fact which he was well aware of – but he wasn’t stupid.

As she watched him flit and flirt his way across the stage with Kurt, the other shoe finally dropped.

There was never a doubt in her mind that she and Puck would break up. But now, at least, she could be content knowing he wouldn’t dump her because she was too much to handle or because their relationship was based on a bet or a joke.  
No. Puck would leave her because he belonged with someone else, and she didn't mean that bitch Santana or Quinn “Who's my baby daddy?” Fabray. Puck belonged with Kurt; that was plain as day after one performance together.

She would just have to pull a few strings to make it happen.

*

Honestly, she lost a little respect for Santana Lopez in her digging around. For someone who claimed to be McKinley’s top bitch, she was way too easy to blackmail. All Lauren needed was that not-so coveted invitation to the Rachel Berry House Party Trainwreck Extravaganza. The rest, Santana all but laid at her feet.

Two drinks in, Lopez was whining about every guy Brittany had ever so much as looked at. Three more and she was outright crying about it. And that spin the bottle game? Lauren didn’t speak Spanish, but anyone with eyes and ears could tell Santana didn’t like anyone else touching her best friend.

Huh. Looks like McKinley had been breeding closet cases – and the two biggest ones were unknowingly about to help each other out.

*

All it took to bring Santana to her was a tiny little note slipped in her locker. And when you’ve got something to hide, “I know,” are terrifying words. Under that, Lauren wrote an address and a time.

Lopez was early, but Lauren was waiting nonetheless. She entered the restaurant looking ready to maim, wearing her signature Cheerios uniform. Her narrowed eyes landed on Lauren; she offered a smile and wave of her fingers.

“What the hell is this about, you cow?” she spat as she slid into the booth seat across from Lauren.

With a roll of her eyes, Lauren answered, “Is that any way to talk to your new friend, carpet muncher?”

Once again, Zizes wondered how Santana had convinced everyone she was such a badass. A single implication of her secret had her face drained of color and her manicured nails skittering a beat on the table. What kind of HBIC couldn’t even keep a straight face? Pathetic.

Before her newest partner in crime could retort, Lauren interrupted. “I don’t care, Lopez. I don’t care if you like Brittany or Blaine or Berry, even. All I care is that you don’t want other people to know. Except you couldn’t keep a secret to save your life, so I do know. And after a favor or two, I could probably manage to forget.”

Santana was predictably fuming, backed into a corner. The irony of blackmailing a closeted lesbian in order to help hook up two gay guys (one unaware, or also closeted) was not lost on her. But Puckerman was sweet and deserved to be happy, no matter who it was with.

Besides, Ice Queen Hummel and the Puckasaurus would have the hottest sex. For sure.

Finally, Santana settled on crossing her arms and sighing. “What do you want Zizes? Puckerman not man enough for you?”

She snorted. “Not quite. More like I’m not man enough for him.”

Lopez scoffed and rolled her eyes. “If Puckerman's not putting out, it’s not because he’s gay. More like-“

“I think we both know he has no problem _putting out_. He’s been trying to get me to for weeks.”

“So what makes you think Lima's biggest manwhore is gay?”

“I never said _gay_. He could be bisexual, pansexual, demisexual – which I doubt, but-“

“Okay, but I’ve screwed Puck more times than I can count and he’s always seemed straight as an arrow to me.”

“How drunk were you at Berry’s the other night?”

“Drunk enough I actually stayed for more than an hour, but sober enough I still regret it.”

“Do you remember Puck singing?”

She frowned, looking thoughtful. “Yeah, he got up there and sang some Joan Jett song with Hummel.” Finally, it dawned on her. Santana sat back quickly, hands going to the sticky vinyl of the booth seat. “You don’t think…”

“Did you see them perform, Lopez?”

“I didn’t pay much attention, really. I usually don’t, when a man opens his mouth.”

While Lauren privately agreed, trash talking the patriarchy wasn’t on the agenda tonight. “Then you’re lucky I came prepared. This isn’t a show you want to miss.”

*

Before she watched that video, Santana would have never believed _Noah Puckerman_ was anything but heterosexual. After, though…

It started seemingly innocent enough. Puck with his guitar, Kurt with his impeccable outfit. They strut around the stage, giving a good show of the back and forth of their arrangement. But then, she saw it.

Kurt – who was likely putting on this show to piss off Rachel and Blaine Hobbit – seemed to get continuously more confident on stage. When he sang _Hey man, bet you can treat me right_ , Kurt grabbed Puck by the collar. Their faces were inches apart and even with the shitty cell phone camera, she could see Puck's eyes narrow and darken. He licked his lips and watched Kurt strut away, singing about Puck begging for it. And judging by his face – pupils blown, teeth bared, cocky grin – he was all _but_ begging for it. Fuck, she would put money on him being half-hard in his jeans the whole song.

Zizes was right. Puckerman wanted to pound the little ice queen into the mattress. But what business was that of theirs?

*

"Okay. So he’s got a boner for Lady Lips. What about it?”

Zizes sighed. This was why the blackmail was necessary. Lopez couldn’t just do something out of the goodness in her heart. God forbid, it might ruin her reputation.

“Puckerman’s an alright guy. He should be happy, whoever it’s with. Don’t you think?”

“I think if you try to tell Puck he’s gay, he’ll laugh in your face. There are easier ways to end a relationship, Zizes.”

Lauren sent her a patented Bitch Please look. “We both know this isn’t about me. Sure, I could let Puck keep following me around like a particularly horny puppy. I’d still be consistently getting chocolates, favors, and attention. But do you think either of us would be happy in the long run?”

“He’s happy so long as he’s getting his dick wet,” she scoffed.

“Like you’re happy? Just sleeping around with any man you want?”

Santana just rolled her eyes, then looked everywhere but at Lauren. _Finally_ , she thought. “Now, first, we need Hummel back. You’re one of the few people able to cow even the dumbest of jocks. So, I thought you’d be able to help. Any ideas?”

“What if I don’t go along with this?”

“What do you think? Rumors will start. Santana Lopez only sleeps with dudes because she’s so far in the clo-“

“Fine! I get it, Zizes. I fucking get it.”

A small part of Lauren, the part that genuinely wanted to help Puck – felt bad for baiting her. If pushed, she probably wouldn’t actually out Lopez. She just didn’t need to know that, though. “Just help me with this, and it’s all forgotten.”

“Yeah, right.”

“Look, Malibu Barbie, you can trust me or risk the consequences.”

Santana was quiet for a long minute, her eyes squeezed closed and her posture stiff. “I have an idea,” she finally replied, albeit unhappily.

Zizes reclined in her booth and flagged down a waitress. “Lets hear it.”

*

She had no problem letting Santana blackmail the closeted, dickweed bully that ran Hummel off in the first place. There were, like, Greek tragedy levels of irony in Lauren blackmailing a closeted Lopez who was blackmailing a closeted Karofsky, all to help out the (unknowingly?) closeted Puckerman.

God. She needed a vacation.

And one day, she swore, Hummel and Puckerman would foot the bill for one.

She rubbed her eyes and sighed. It was nearing two in the morning and she needed her beauty sleep. Besides, wrestling crying little manbabies for two hours after school was much more fun when she was well-rested. Lauren deleted the texts between her and Lopez, clapped her hands to shut off the lights, and closed her eyes against the darkness.

*

Alright. So, maybe, things had gotten out of hand. While she spent the last two weeks weaving a complicated web of subterfuge, Lopez had also been busy. Very busy. Now, somehow, a ridiculous group called the Bully Whips (ran by two of McKinley’s most active bullies) patrolled the halls in stupid hats to keep the students “safe.” Santana was also “dating” Karofsky. At least the Glee club was fully convinced they needed Hummel back if they wanted to add to that trophy case Berry drooled over daily. Mercedes and Finn turned out to be the most helpful on that front. Both were very vocal about wanting Kurt back so long as he was safe.

Thanks to Lauren, he would be.

All she needed to do now was push Puck in the right direction. This was the hardest part of her plan. It was more complicated than a well-timed comment on how lacking their soprano section was or a question about this season's trends conveniently overheard by the right person. Her next phase took finesse.

Without being too obvious, she would have to convince Puck to go see Kurt. If poorly done, it would be met with backlash and confusion. Obviously, she could guilt trip him to do so (he _was_ the one who told Hummel to visit Dalton in the first place, and really, shouldn’t a member of both the Glee Club and the football team have noticed how bad Karofsky had gotten?). If push came to shove, she could even offer the idea of repairing his and Finn's strained friendship via convincing Kurt to return. Finally, Lauren would have to _make damn sure_ Hummel came back.

No matter what, though, that stupid Warbler kid would have to be out of the picture.  
*

She invited herself over to the Puckerman household that Thursday for a “study date.” Lauren didn’t _love_ going to Puck's house; she preferred to be on her own terf, on her own terms. But she needed the false sense of security his house granted him, as well as a decent amount of privacy. Unlike her own involved-but-not-overbearing parents, Sheila Puckerman was normally gone. Some days she’d be working a grueling sixteen hour shift at Lima Memorial. Others, she was sleeping off those shifts. She took Sarah to scouts on Wednesdays and Saturdays she attended Temple; Sundays she spent with her mother and two sisters.

Sarah, a sweet little third grader with the vocabulary of a pissed off sailor, was equally busy. Between school, scouts, and soccer, she was an accomplished eight year old. Lauren had the feeling they kept her so busy purposely, but she didn’t seem to mind.

This particular Thursday, Sheila was working the night shift and Sarah was at her Nana's. Puck probably figured he’d be smooth and “seduce” her.

Tough luck, Puck, Lauren thought to herself.

He answered the door wearing, predictably, too much aftershave and a tight shirt. While she thought his efforts were cute, this was a business call. “Evening, Puckerman,” she greeted as he let her inside.

“Aren’t you looking… _delectable_ today?” he answered, with a stupidly adorable smirk.

“Did you pull out your thesaurus or use Google to fine that particular…adjective?”

“Dude, why would I have a dinosaur that teaches me new words?”

She smacked him in the arm for the lame joke. “Escort me up, Puckerman. We have work to do.”

With a roll of his eyes and a whiny tone better suited to his sister, he asked, “What are we even studying anyway?”

“Not anatomy, that’s for sure. What do you need to work on? I’ve got Algebra and those damn World History chapters to read.”

They bantered up the stairs and into his room, which he had made an effort to clean. Lauren pretended she didn’t feel her stomach swoop low at the gesture. Too fucking bad he was hot for Hummel. Puck made a decent boyfriend when he tried.

She did make him study, if only because she did genuinely worry about his grades in her own private thoughts. He worked well when right answers were awarded with a kiss on the cheek or peck on the lips, depending on how difficult the question was. It lasted for about an hour before she got tired of batting his wandering hands away. He never seemed to mind, just backing off with a tiny smirk and cocked eyebrow. Asshole.

Slowly, she turned the conversation from classwork to Glee Club to their upcoming competitions.

“All Berry can do is flop between _We don’t need Kurt because I’m the best_ and _We need Kurt because I can’t do it all_! It’s gotten pretty damn annoying,” Puck said.

Lauren smothered a smile and rolled her eyes instead. A perfect opening, laid in her lap. “I’m sure we could win without Hummel, but if he and that Warbler duet? We’re screwed.”

“Why would Kurt sing with that loser anyway?”

Feigning annoyance, she scoffed and said, “Probably because he’s got a hard-on for the guy?”

Puck shut his history book forcefully, eyebrows pinched together. “He _did_ , until the dude started macking on Berry.”

“I hear they have a date this weekend.”

“What! There’s no way Hummel would go out with that ass. His whole MO is “I’m too good for everyone else so leave me the hell alone.” Major resting bitch face included.”

“Not him, nimrod. Berry and Blaine.”

“Oh.” She didn’t miss the pink on the tips of his ears or his confused expression. “So he’s like, not gay?”

Lauren shrugged, mentally surprised at the direction of the conversation. Maybe it wouldn’t be so hard to make Puck figure himself out. “He could be gay, and the thing with Berry was a fluke. Or he could be a number of different sexualities.” Puckerman opened his mouth to retort, but she barreled on while she had the chance. In a bored tone, she said, “He could be bisexual. Likes guy and girls and whatever else. Could be pansexual, where he’s more worried about their personality than what’s in their pants. There demisexual, greysexual, asexual, aromantic-“

“Damn. I didn’t know there were so many ways to be gay.”

“Gay is an umbrella term, Puckerman. Just like athlete. Everything from football players to fucking golfers are called athletes. Some are sportier or more athletic than others, but they’re all athletes.”

He looked like the weirdest epiphany ever had just slapped him in the face. Instead of responding, he just nodded.

“Gay or not, the Hobbit has a good voice. Throw that, charming smiles, old school uniforms, and Hummel's pipes in the mix? That’s a close competition. And I didn’t join this fucking club to watch some prep school boys kick our asses.”

Looking thoughtful, he asked, “So you really think we need Hummel back?”

“Duh. The only advantages we have over those prisses are our dance moves, because their snap-and-step method is boring, and our range. All male choirs don’t usually have high hitters. But Hummel can shatter glass, and our chances at winning, if they’re smart enough to use him to their advantage.” Lauren heaved a sigh and flipped the page of her history book. “Our fearless leader,” she drawled sarcastically, “has decided she will be the one to drag him back.”

All pretenses of Puckerman studying were gone, though she still absently ran her eyes over the assigned reading. “Like he'd listen to Rachel anyway. He says she dresses like a toddler _and_ a grandma,” he snorted. “Plus, she totally moved in on that Gargler dude.”

Lauren smirked, amused and victorious. “Whatever he says about her borderline Lolita wardrobe, you’re right. There’s no way he’ll listen to her.” She tapped her chin with a pencil and pretended to look thoughtful. “If Schue begged him, maybe promised a solo, he’d come back.”

“Yeah, right. He’s too busy riding Finn's dick to let another guy take the lead.” This was said with an unaffected tone, but she knew the bitterness was there by his darting eyes and bouncing knee.

“Well, Hummel still might listen to Finn. He is the de facto leader of Glee. And they’re like, brothers now.”

Zizes watched Puck pull his shoulders back and display his teeth with a harsh look. She was playing him like a damn fiddle. Men were too easy.

“Yeah. But it's not like Finn protected him or anything.”

She cut her eyes at him, reminded herself that this was something that needed to be said. “No one did, apparently.”

For a moment, she thought he’d try to argue. Then he deflated – almost literally with how he slouched and closed off his expression – and nodded. “Should’ve, though. Hummel may be easy pickings – I mean, he’s gay as shit, it’s practically written on his face – but he never hurt anyone.”

That, of all the things he’d ever said to her, made her want to rage. What did any of the poor kids he’d bullied do? Looked different? Talked different? Loved different? Noah may be a former bully, but these mistakes were made. His actions were set in the cement of the past. The only thing he could do was reform himself.

“He might listen to you, you know,” she said, catching him off guard.

“Don’t hold your breath. I used to toss him in dumpsters and shit.”

“So did Finn.”

He was quiet for a long minute. “I know that. But like you said, they’ve got a weird family connection now.”

“I’m just saying. You gave him the idea to go to Dalton in the first place, and he listened. Plus, that duet you two did was _damn_ good. That’s the kind of performance we need to get to Nationals.”

For just a moment, McKinley High's resident badass looked vulnerable. Puck's brow was furrowed, drawn tight above conflicted eyes and lips pressed close together. He nodded, just once.

“So this Henry guy had six wives? That’s nothin'. My aunt’s working on her seventh marriage, and she’s got almost twice as many kids as ex-husbands…”


End file.
